


Dear Simon

by Snowbazzz_lyf



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, I cried writing this, I don't understand my brain, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide, simon and baz are dead dead dead, this fic is depressing as all fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-03-13 21:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowbazzz_lyf/pseuds/Snowbazzz_lyf
Summary: “Sometimes I still can't believe that you are no longer here. I think I am waiting for the day when one day I would just be doing something productive and you would come running up to me with a new, ridiculous problem. I am waiting for that day, Simon. But I also know that day will never come.”----Eight years after the death of her best friend, Penny writes a letter to him on the eve of her wedding.





	Dear Simon

**Author's Note:**

> I am utterly disappointed by my brain at this point of time because like the entire fandom insists on keeping Simon and Baz alive and happy, and I, on the other hand, make them suffer. Half of my incredibly angsty Snowbaz fics have not been posted because I am certain some of you will hunt me down for making those two precious children suffer like that.
> 
> Anyways, I really liked this one so idk, maybe you'll like it too.
> 
> Enjoy..??

Dear Simon,

I think this is the most sentimental and impractical thing I have ever done in my entire goddamn life. I don't even know what got into me today, but I think I missed you too much. I _miss_ you too much. Every day, I can't help but think about you and wish you were here because believe it or not, Simon, I needed you just as much you needed me. I _still_ need you. You were my best friend and you still are. I could not find anyone to fill your place, not that I ever wanted or want anyone to. Because your place is sacred, you know?

Yeah, yeah. Tough old Penny has gone all soft. But seriously, Simon, I can't bear to think of anyone else taking your spot. You had been my best friend ever since I had stepped inside Watford and till date you are. So what if you are not here physically? I know that you are that one noble dumbass who would never leave their friend alone, even after dying...

Dying...

Dead. Gone forever.

I can't believe that it happened to you, that you died. Sometimes I still can't believe that you are no longer here. I think I am waiting for the day when one day I would just be doing something productive and you would come running up to me with a new, ridiculous problem. I am waiting for that day, Simon. But I also know that day will never come.

I am waiting for you to come back. I am waiting for something that is impossible because I had _seen_ you die. I had _seen_ you fall after defeating the nefarious Humdrum, onto the cold and bloody floor and then never move again. It seems as if all of it had happened only yesterday. That bloody, gruesome and nightmarish incident is still vivid and crystal clear in my mind.

It seems as if only yesterday I saw you fall and your last breath leave you. It seems as if only yesterday I saw Baz screaming with abject horror and terrifying rage, pulling at the ends of his hair, tears rushing down his face, a look of complete and utter disbelief and anguish. It seems as if it was only yesterday that I saw him running towards the Mage at a lightening fast speed, and then murder him in the most gruesome manner, first Turning him and then tearing him apart, with his bare hands, the first time I saw how strong and fucking ruthless he could be.

It seems as if it was only yesterday when I saw him look at me after he had killed him, as if he didn't recognise me at all, and then at you for one last time, his eyes heavy and sorrowful and something flickering in them that I didn't recognise at that time, holding the mage's mutilated dead body, weeping bitterly and then taking out his wand in his bloody hand and shouting, in a clear voice, **_"Tyger_** ** _Tyger_** _ **burning bright!"**_

I saw him burn, getting charred up completely, in a brilliant white flame. In a matter of few seconds, all that was left, were his ashes and the acrid smell of burning. I had screamed then, because Baz had committed suicide, right after killing the Mage. I had been frozen before that, my mind had been reeling with your sudden death and then Baz brutally murdering the Mage. I had sort of stopped functioning and those flames were what had bought me back to reality. I had gone into a panic attack, falling onto the floor, screaming and crying, trying to control my breathing, trying to calm myself down and around me, there were dead bodies and blood and ashes and sights too gruesome. I still have nightmares about that, though they are not as frequent now.

I had passed out after that, I think, because when I had opened my eyes again, I was in the infirmary, with my mother crying over me. And Premal was there and Mr Grimm and Fiona Pitch. I had told them everything. Everything that Baz and I and you had figured out. About the Humdrum, about your connection with the Humdrum, about the Mage's hand in headmistress Pitch's murder. And then I told them everything I had seen; your death, Baz murdering the Mage in a moment of uncontrollable fury and then killing himself, and all the time I had recounted it, I had been crying, hiccuping over my tears. That was the hardest part, Simon, saying it all aloud because then it became final. Your death was no longer something I could deny. It became a fact, a truth, painful, yes, but true nonetheless.

Mr. Grimm was completely broken after I had recounted everything, I had never seen any man look like that. He had looked defeated, tired, heartbroken. He had lost his wife in a similar manner and then, years later, his son. He did not cry, though. He didn't even shed a single tear because he was numb with grief. Sometimes, Simon, it's much worse if a person doesn't cry at a loss like that.

Fiona Pitch cried. She cried like a child, she had lost her nephew, the last of the Pitch family, the only living connection she had had with her dead sister. She had lost so much by losing one person. I had never personally met Fiona, but I knew that she was a woman tough as nails and seeing her break down, was heartbreaking in manners I can't explain.

They had wanted to bury you in the Catacombs but I had begged them not to, because I knew that your grave deserved to be known, not hidden away, far from sunlight and wind and all those things you loved. I wanted you to be buried in Watford, because I knew that Watford had been the only place you had felt at home and I didn't want to take you away from there. But at the same time, I had wanted you to be buried somewhere, where the sunrays could touch your tombstone and the smell of the wildflowers could reach you and where the rain could fall. So in the end, they buried you at the edge of the Wavering Wood. I hope you like it there.

I am also sorry that I didn't attend your funeral but you know how I am like. I have always hated goodbyes. And a goodbye which was absolutely final and irreversible? Hell no. I knew I didn't have it in me to say that goodbye to you. Please forgive me for that, because I have visited your grave countless times to meet you.

But yeah, I still hope you like where you are. It's quite a beautiful spot and Baz's tomb is next to yours.

Baz.

He had become my friend too, after spending so much time together. And his death had saddened me a great deal. It hadn't hurt me as much as yours did, yes, but it still hurt. I did consider him to be my friend and losing him was painful. Especially when I couldn't figure out his death.

Truth be told, Simon, I couldn't figure out why Baz had killed himself in the beginning. After your death, I had dropped out of Watford and I would spend a long time on my bed, just lying and thinking or crying or talking to my therapist and it had taken a lot of sessions for me to get back on track again. So like I said, after your death, I would lie on my bed and think a lot.

The most prominent thought being: _Why the hell did Baz Pitch kill himself?_ Because as far as I could see, Baz really had no reason to die. He had been out for revenge on the Mage already, since he was his mother's murderer and I never believed the silly theory of Baz feeling immensely guilty for murdering someone and then killing himself to lessen his guilt or whatever the fuck it is because I really don't think he was feeling guilty. He had not _looked_ guilty. If anything, he had looked quite satisfied that he had killed the Mage. So, I would wonder about the reason for Baz's self immolation.

The answer came to me one day, like an epiphany.

Suddenly, I could only remember all the times I had caught him looking at you with a tender expression. I could only remember how he had been continuously flirting with Agatha when you and her had been together and how he had completely forgotten her as soon as she broke up with you. I could only remember the look of horror and rage and terrible heartbreak on his face when he saw your corpse. I could only remember the last look he had given to you, one that was a mixture of sorrow and love.

I could only remember the spell he had used to reach you... **_“On love's light wings!”_** a spell, which can only be used when you are completely, utterly, hopelessly and stupidly in love with someone.

Baz Pitch had killed himself because he had _loved_ you. Because he couldn't bear to live in a world without you.

And I remembered how much time you always spent talking about him. I remembered how worried you had become when he had gone missing. I remembered how your magic could only be used by him and how you had trusted him to defeat that dragon. I remembered how you had started to help Baz and actually be a friend to him. I remembered how you had refused to leave Baz alone after learning about his kidnapping.

I realised that Baz's feelings had not been unrequited.

And your death was suddenly ten times worse, Simon. The revelation left me stunned and empty. I couldn't believe it at first but the more I thought about it, the more everything made sense. I told my mother and she had been shocked too, her mouth had hung open but she didn't say I was wrong, realising herself that I was correct.

I really wish that wherever you and Baz are, Simon, both of you are happy. That wherever you two are, you can love each other without any restraints because there, hopefully, is no Humdrum and no fate of any world depending on you two, and nobody is a blasted vampire. I hope that you have lots of sour cherry scones to eat there. I don't know, maybe a lot of butter too?

I... I miss you so much, Simon. The months after your death were the hardest. I would wake up every day and never open my eyes for a few moments because I desperately wanted to believe that I was back in my dorm room and Trixie was snoring next to me on her bed and then when I would wake up and go down for breakfast, you will be there, stuffing yourself silly with a shit ton of food.

Needless to say, every day I would be disappointed.

I used to cry a lot, I would miss you a lot. I still cry sometimes, like you know, right now, and I miss you every second of every day. Yes, I know that I have a lot of siblings, but Simon, you were the one who was my brother. I loved you. I cared about you. So much.  I still do. After all this time, I still do.

I miss our stupid conversations about anything and everything under the sun. I miss seeing you eating food, like you can't have enough of it. I miss just sitting next to you and speaking nothing because our silences could communicate better than words. I miss hugging you and ruffling your hair. I miss _you,_ Simon.

I hate the fact that it's my wedding tomorrow and that you wouldn't be there. You are my best friend and I hate that you would not be there on a day that is so important for me. My heart aches when I think of it. When I think of all the wedding guests and that you are not a part of it. I hate it so much.

I am trying to imagine what it would have been like if things had turned out differently. I think you would have probably been as excited as a toddler in a candy shop. I think that you and Baz would have been together, ridiculously in love and I don't know, maybe even married? I think that on the eve of my wedding, all of us would have probably been excitedly talking about it and not me sitting alone in my study, writing a letter that would never even be read by you.

I will stop here now because this is getting too painful for me to handle. Thinking of all the what-ifs and have-beens is driving me nuts with misery and hopelessness. Already, this letter is wet with my tears and I don't want to tear it. I want to keep this one close and then deliver it to you the next time I visit Watford.

Very sentimental. I know. I told you I have gone soft.

I love you, Simon.

Love,

Pen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. That was that.
> 
> I am so glad I wrote that. I am crying bye.


End file.
